Pre-Raphaelite fantasy
Nothing about Wightwick Manor in Wolverhampton is quite what it seems, discovers
Built around a battlemented tower, the halftimbered Wightwick Manor in Wolverhampton is a melange of Tudor, Elizabethan and Jacobean-style architecture
Both inside and out, Wightwick Manor seems to have grown organically over many centuries. Its black and white, half-timbered exterior, irregular roofs and elaborate chimneys suggest a Tudor, Elizabethan and Jacobean past. And the illusion of gradual growth over hundreds of years continues beyond the ancient-looking front door: the walls of the Entrance Hall are oak-panelled and there are twists and turns and unexpected changes in floor level.
There’s a deep window recess, an intimate inglenook fireplace, and everywhere jewel-rich, stained-glass panels glow in the mullioned windows. But the multitude of architectural references is misleading: Wightwick belongs resolutely to one time and age. It is entirely a late-Victorian construct.
The house was built in 1887 for Theodore Mander, a wealthy Wolverhampton paint manufacturer, who wanted to be seen as someone of impeccable lineage and taste. Fired with inspiration by Oscar Wilde’s 1882 lecture ‘The House Beautiful’, Theodore and his wife Flora employed the architect Edward Ould to build their house in the ‘Old English’ style, but fitted with all the latest mod cons. ‘ Wightwick was one of the first houses in England to have electricity,’ says John Wood, Wightwick’s conservation manager. ‘It also had plumbed-in bathrooms and central heating, as well as the unusual luxury of a Turkish bath.’
In its first phase, the house was relatively modest in size, with very little guest accommodation. But five years later, the Manders added a considerable extension, complete with a medieval-style, doublestoreyed Great Parlour, a Billiard Room and a much bigger Dining Room. ‘By then, Theodore was growing in civic importance, and the new rooms were larger and grander to reflect that,’ says John.
The interior furnishings were chosen not only to harmonise with the architecture,
but also with comfort in mind. So along with the oriental ceramics and rugs, the exquisite tapestries and dark 17th- century furniture, there were plenty of comfortable armchairs and sofas. From the outset, the Manders enthusiastically bought from the leading craftsmen of the day. Morris & Company wallpapers and textiles lined the walls, ‘although Morris never actually came here and they probably bought from his catalogues,’ says John. Stained glass was supplied by Charles Kempe, and tiles made by Morris’s great friend, William De Morgan, decorated many of the fireplaces.
Sadly, the couple did not have long to enjoy their luxurious new home. Only seven years after the completion of Wightwick, Theodore died. Flora outlived him by another five years. ‘After that, the house went through a rocky period,’ says John. ‘Geo rey, their eldest son, was only 18 when his father died. He tried to sell the house in the 1920s, and it wasn’t until after his second marriage to Rosalie, an aspiring Liberal politician whose ideology mirrored his own, that Wightwick
once more became a family home and a place for political entertainment.’ By then, the Morris interiors felt old-fashioned but, absorbed in their political careers, Geo rey and Rosalie did nothing to alter them.
In 1937, the National Trust Act inspired the idealistic Geo rey to gift the house and its contents to the Trust. Persuading the organisation to take on a building that was only 50 years old can’t have been easy. ‘But he never regretted it, for he liked to think that the public should enjoy what had been his property,’ Rosalie later wrote.
From then on, the Manders’ interest in Wightwick grew. Rosalie gave visitor tours, and the collection took on a new lease of life. ‘In the months before the property was gifted, they bought their first Pre-Raphaelite painting,’ says John. The artwork – a portrait of Jane Morris by Rossetti (completed by Madox Brown) – was the first of many Pre-Raphaelite works acquired in partnership with the National Trust. ‘At a time when their works were out of fashion, many paintings were donated by descendants of the artists, who just wanted them to be safe,’ says John.
As the collection expanded, so too did the ‘Morrisification’ of the house. ‘They bought more wallpaper and fabric when Morris & Co went into liquidation, because it was cheap, and then they redecorated,’ says John. New acquisitions were usually chosen for their associations with the Pre-Raphaelites and their circle. ‘Lady Mander wrote seminal
biographies of Rossetti and Shelley, among others, and was interested in how her subjects related to one another.’
Although the works of William De Morgan and his artist wife Evelyn were already well represented at Wightwick, the collection expanded briefly during the 1940s. Rosalie was friends with Evelyn’s sister, Wilhelmina Stirling, who also owned a large number of the De Morgans’ best creations, and so the Manders o ered to look after them during the war.
Seventy years on, much of Wilhelmina’s collection has returned to Wightwick and is now on display in the new Malthouse Gallery. ‘Given the history, it feels right to display the De Morgan Collection here,’ says John.